


Wild Card

by buc_eebarnes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Bodyguard, Con Artists, M/M, Organized Crime, Pre-Slash, Theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29664372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buc_eebarnes/pseuds/buc_eebarnes
Summary: Takahiro doesn't know what makes him do it, but before he could stop to think, he's rushing the hitman and taking him down, disarming him in the process. He shoots the man in the head and immediately turns to hear a panicked yell from his left.“Oh my fucking god,”Matsukawa whispers to himself, eyes dancing around the parking lot. After Takahiro catches his breath, the target turns to him, eyes accusing. “Who the fuck are you?”
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Wild Card

**Author's Note:**

> Initially written for the [Black and Blue: Haikyuu!! Delinquent AU zine!](https://twitter.com/hqblacknblue) I've had a rough past few months, mostly procrastinating on writing, but I am starting to find my groove again, so this is my first fic after a hot minute! Writing this AU was incredibly fun, and it's based off of the movie Wild Target (2010) with Emily Blunt, Bill Nighy, and Rupert Grint.
> 
> In this fic, I added a few details that I had to snip out of the final draft, so it was longer than the 1.5k count that was required of us during the creation period.
> 
> Please enjoy! This is my first time writing Matsuhana and I'm excited to write more for them in the future.

Takahiro is busy cleaning his sniper rifle when the call comes in.

He wipes the oil from his fingers with a cloth, eyebrows furrowing. He had just finished an overseas job for Dateko, so he’s surprised to receive another one so soon. There’s normally a network that potential clients have to go through in order to request hitmen, but since he’s being called at his landline, he thinks this one is more urgent. He stands and picks up the call, raising his eyebrows when he hears who’s on the other end.

 _“Hanamaki-kun,”_ Tendou’s voice lilts in greeting, but it’s edging on irritation. Someone must have _really_ pissed him off. _“I need you to do a favor for me.”_

“What can I do for the Shiratorizawa Clan?” Takahiro shoves a hand in his pockets, curious. Shiratorizawa is one of the few prominent gangs in Japan that have an established reputation. For them to call on Takahiro for a job is odd, as they normally have their own hitmen do the work. Regardless, he’s not known in the yakuza circles as one of the best assassins in the country for nothing, and he takes pride in the fact that he was called on by Tendou. 

_“We just got conned one million yen. I need you to kill the bastard who got away with it.”_

Takahiro raises an eyebrow. Shiratorizawa being conned? “That’s not like you, Tendou-sama.”

And it really isn’t. Tendou is arguably the best researcher Shiratorizawa has. He vets his sellers carefully to make sure that the clan is purchasing authentic items only. Washio Tatsuki is one extravagant boss, and he expects nothing less from a clan he hand-picked for their strength and smarts. Tendou is no exception. Takahiro then wonders how someone could have conned him out of one million yen.

He asks just that to the other man, and Tendou lets out an aggravated laugh. _“It wasn’t me who set up the meeting. Washio-sama wanted our new lounge area to have somethin’ nice to look at, so Goshiki—a new recruit—thought he’d butter up to him and set up the meeting himself. I don’t even know how the hell he found this new seller. The piece itself was so cheap, too.”_

Takahiro huffs. One million yen, in their line of work, is a very low price indeed.

“How’d you realize you were conned?”

_“Semi-Semi was ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the painting, touching it like an excited kid, when he had to scratch his nose and paint got on it.”_

So the painting wasn’t even dry. It must’ve looked real fucking legitimate for the Goshiki kid to pay upfront. “But why ask me, Tendou-sama? Why not get Oohira-san? Or, hell, Semi-kun?”

_“We’re very busy at this time, Strawberry-head. More important things to do than deal with a conman. Get it done this weekend. We’ll pay you two million yen and we'll put it on record in the network.”_

Takahiro’s eyebrows shoot up. He usually gets less for a clean-up job like this, but hell, Tendou probably wants it over with, and Takahiro isn’t gonna say no to two million. Plus, any way to boost his reputation is something he won’t turn down. He accepts the job.

_“Great. Kill the target. I don’t wanna deal with him in the future. Someone’ll swing by your place later to drop off the info Goshiki got about him.”_

They hang up, and Takahiro straightens his posture and rolls his neck, cracking his knuckles. He gets back to the table to clean his rifle, a plan formulating in his head.

He wonders who the pesky conman is, and how good he had to be to put the wool over a Shiratorizawa member’s eyes.

* * *

The conman’s name is Matsukawa Issei.

He had used an alias when meeting up with Shiratorizawa, but they had managed to pull up his actual information when they were scrubbing through the conversations that Goshiki had with him. They had verified his face with facial recognition, too.

Regardless, he’s absolutely _plain,_ Takahiro thinks, squinting at the photos he’d picked up from his mailbox. The quality was grainy, as they were taken from security cameras, but even then, Takahiro is sure that the man can lose himself in a crowd easily and evade suspicion if he wanted to. Even with his tall stature, he’s a chameleon, blending into the background, phasing in and out of existence, and it’s difficult to pinpoint where exactly he is amidst the blur of black and white.

Takahiro finally flips to a close-up of his face. Matsukawa appears to have stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, his hood drawn up. His eyes are hooded, and a small pout sits on his lips. He looks bored, unbothered, and not like someone who just conned a reputable gang of one million yen.

Takahiro’s impressed. He skims the report on where Matsukawa works, lives, his most frequent haunts, who his friends seem to be. There are more pictures in the report, and Matsukawa has a smirk on in some of them. He’s sometimes seen working with a man who has chocolate brown hair, both dressed for whichever occasion they’ve decided to steal from. It doesn’t escape Takahiro’s notice that Matsukawa cleans up well for some of the heists. He's plain, but he can play off being attractive if he wanted. Maybe that's his trick.

Takahiro glances at the clock. He could start the job now, as Matsukawa gets out of work in an hour. The thrill of a chase always gets his blood thrumming, and he closes the report.

 _Matsukawa Issei,_ he muses, readying his gear. Who the hell _is_ he?

* * *

He, as a matter of fact, is elusive.

 _Too elusive,_ Takahiro thinks as he follows Matsukawa through the busy side streets. It’s almost 8 PM, so darkness has blanketed the city, but the shops offer more than enough light to show the way. Matsukawa ducks into a run-down parking garage, and Takahiro quickens his pace, keeping a casual air about him.

From what he remembers, this particular garage doesn’t have any working security cameras, so it’s optimal for the kill.

However, Takahiro ends up being blindsided by a different hitman approaching from the side, gun raised and aimed at Matsukawa's retreating back.

_What the hell?_

Takahiro doesn't know what makes him do it, but before he could stop to think, he's rushing the hitman and taking him down, disarming him in the process. He shoots the man in the head and immediately turns to hear a panicked yell from his left.

There's a car heading straight for Matsukawa, and Takahiro bolts to push him out of the way, succeeding inches before impact. He lands on the man with an _“oof”_ and rolls off of him, glancing back at the car.

It screeches to a halt, and another hitman opens the door, a handgun already pointed towards the Matsukawa. Takahiro shoves him behind the opposite side of the car and fires a round through the passenger-side window, shooting square in the hitman’s chest. Glass shatters everywhere, and the man drops to the floor, dead. Takahiro slumps against the side of the car next to his target, who isn’t hiding the fact that he’s freaking the fuck out.

 _"Oh my fucking god,"_ Matsukawa whispers to himself, eyes dancing around the parking lot. After Takahiro catches his breath, the target turns to him, eyes accusing. “Who the fuck are you?”

Takahiro is still debating on answering him when Matsukawa’s eyes fix on a point beyond Takahiro’s shoulder.

“Shit. _Shit!_ Why are they _here?”_

Takahiro turns around to see who _they_ are, and before he knows it, the car door on the driver’s side has shut and the car careens off, knocking him back to the ground. He bolts upright, disbelief sinking in with the realization that his target had probably fucked off.

He glances around, trying to look for more people in the parking garage, and then all of a sudden, he hears another deafening screech of the brakes, and Takahiro sees bodies slamming into the front bumper of the car Matsukawa stole. He slowly reverses back to where Takahiro is still on the pavement, jaw hanging open.

Exactly who the fuck _is_ this guy?

“Oi! Super badass spy dude or whatever!” It takes him a moment to realize that Matsukawa is referring to him. “Get in!”

He stumbles in getting up and opening the passenger side door. Once he slides in the seat and pulls the door shut, Matsukawa jams his foot on the gas pedal and floors it out of the run-down parking garage and into the muggy night.

Takahiro stares at the man. “You came back for me.”

“Well, yeah, I wasn’t about to let you get murdered by those guys.” Matsukawa glances at him, saying it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “They’re scary as fuck.”

“Who are they?”

Matsukawa shrugs, making a sharp right and nearly barreling Takahiro into him. “Just a big yakuza group.”

Big yakuza group? Did Shiratorizawa end up sending people after Matsukawa after all? Or did he make a deal with a different group? “Wha— _fucking shit, be careful—_ what’d you do to piss them off?”

Matsukawa is silent, and Takahiro, patience running thin and not feeling like dealing with this for the rest of the night, figures that the car should stop before he blows Matsukawa’s brains out. One hand on his pistol, he tries reaching with the other for the steering wheel, but then Matsukawa shoots him a sly grin, effectively making Takahiro’s heart skip a few beats.

_What the fuck?_

This night is not at all going how he’s expected.

“Listen, you seem like you’re pretty good at protecting people. I’ll hire you to be my bodyguard.”

No, not at all how he expected.

 _“What?”_ Takahiro chokes.

“I’ll pay you three million yen. _A day.”_

Takahiro doesn’t know what emotional gymnastics his face must be doing. _Every day?_ Exactly how much fucking money does this guy have?

“I just need you to keep me safe until I get out of the country. I made some deals with some very, very important people and they’re coming after me because _they_ didn’t double check the stuff they wanted. Not my fault they got duped.”

“I don’t think that helps your case,” Takahiro finally manages, feeling a bit faint.

Matsukawa ignores him, grinning. “So what do you say? I’ll make it worth your while.”

Takahiro is always up for money. However, he isn’t always up to risking his reputation.

Something about Matsukawa intrigues him, though, and Takahiro figures that he can get both the three million a day from his target _and_ the two million from Shiratorizawa, if he plays his cards right.

“Fine,” Takahiro relents, “But we’re getting a new car.”

The smirk Matsukawa shoots him makes him think that the risk might be worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Y'all can find me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/buc_eebarnes)


End file.
